


somewhere in southern italy

by drqco



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23923015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drqco/pseuds/drqco
Summary: “you left,” martín says in between kisses, but never getting too out of reach. “because i’m a coward,” andrés whispers back, hands finding their way to martín’s hair. for a second, he reaches back and slams the door shut, and martín finally pins him against it. he cups his face, like last time. it’s dark and it smells, but things have never felt more right with him.or, berlín gets out of the mint, alive. he goes to right the wrong that's been haunting him.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 7
Kudos: 116





	somewhere in southern italy

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably so ooc but i wanted something soft for them :( im also kinda writing a high school fic but im not sure if im gonna finish it but enjoy this one :)

“where am i going, hermanito?” andrés teases his brother, after the others dispersed to other parts of the ship, reading their assigned locations. he was just teasing him anyway, he knew where he was going. dangerous, but he knows he’d make it someway or another. 

“i think we both know, andrés,” sergio smiles at him, patting his back. “but it’s dangerous. we should go to the philippines. you can meet raquel,” and he seems much more serious now, standing up to him. andrés scoffs, “i need to go back, sergio. i’m getting him, and i won’t leave without him. not this time.” 

his brother sighs, pushing his glasses up his nose. andrés leans forward and puts a hand on his shoulder. “we might go to sicily, if you want to visit.” 

“it’s too close, andrés. you’ll get caught.” 

“sergio. i made a mistake and i need to fix it. i’m going back, and we’ll be fine, vale?” he engulfs his brother in a tight hug. he’s never loved anyone so much, and he’d do anything, anything for sergio. “te quiero mucho, hermanito. never forget that.” 

\--- 

sergio’s directions lead him here, to a dingy apartment in spain. it was a struggle, trying to get past the police, but he made it, and the person he loved so much was behind this door. somehow, it was scarier than breaking into the royal mint. 

but he takes a breath and knocks on the door, before hearing mumbling and some footsteps getting louder. and when it’s opened, he sees martín berrote, but he’s different. he doesn’t look like the martín he knew before. this martín seemed lifeless, and andrés can’t help but think it’s all his fault. 

“andrés?” martín whispers, voice soft. “i’m a coward, martín,” is what he replies, stepping closer to him. and then andrés steps forward and martín grabs him, kissing him. it’s a familiar feeling, like warmth. it makes him realize how much he misses this, even though they only did it once. he thinks everything would’ve been different if he never left martín. or if he never made it out of the mint. 

“you left,” martín says in between kisses, but never getting too out of reach. “because i’m a coward,” andrés whispers back, hands finding their way to martín’s hair. for a second, he reaches back and slams the door shut, and martín finally pins him against it. he cups his face, like last time. it’s dark and it smells, but things have never felt more right with him. 

“you are,” martín chuckles, pulling back to rest his forehead on his. there are tears coming out of martín’s eyes, a parallel to last time. he wipes his tears but this time, he doesn’t let go. “forgive me,” he pleads. but andrés understands if martín says no. even though a part of himself says that martín would, in a heartbeat. it scares him, and maybe that’s why he left. 

“of course,” martín tells him and hugs him tightly, and andrés hugs him back. but before he could proceed, to ask martín to go to palermo with him, he needs to tell him the one percent. 

“martín, look at me,” he says, letting martín let go and look him in the eyes. “i’ve got months left. i’m here to apologize, it’s why i left. but, martín, do you _really_ want to be with a dying man?” 

“we all are.” 

“but martín-” 

“i know. it doesn’t matter how much you have left. i’m going to be with you, andrés. do you think, when you left, it didn’t hurt me? of course it did, it felt like you died, andrés.” 

“but i will be, martín. really.” 

“i don’t care, hm? i will be with you. i will be with you, i will be with you,” martín says quietly. “when i die, martín, promise me you’ll move on. please,” andrés pulls him tightly again, and he feels, for once, tears in his eyes. he’s accepted his death, but now with martín, it feels different. it hurts. 

“i can’t-” 

“martín, por favor,” he realizes how desperate he sounds. but martín always kept his word. “okay, okay,” and then martín kisses him again and again and again and this, andrés thinks, is what real paradise feels like. 

\--- 

andrés has never felt more happy in his life. 

not when he was stealing diamonds, not when he was in the mint, no. but right here, on the beach with martín snoring softly by his side is where his true happiness lies. 

palermo was beautiful, different from the monastery. the monastery was beautiful, of course, but the beach was a different kind.  
they used the money to buy a private beach, far from everyone else. they had a little house around 50 feet away. and on sundays, they went to the farmer’s market together. very domestic, for the two of them. their days used to be spent planning heists, but now, they spent their days thinking and talking about whether strawberries were better than oranges. _domestic._

of course, the topic of his death comes up now and again. a moment of sadness that they both know is going to happen sooner rather than later. it may seem selfish of him, but andrés can’t bear to imagine his life without his soulmate. maybe that’s why he’s dying first. 

“you’re thinking so loud, you woke me up,” martín yawns from his beach chair. his hair has gotten a bit longer, just the way andrés likes it. andrés hasn’t changed his look that much, a short crop of curls still on his head. martín looks so handsome, there, yawning and turning to look at him. “go back to sleep, ingeniero,” he laughs, leaning forward to place a hand on his cheek. 

the cool breeze soothes their skin, again, different from the monastery. the ocean waves fill andrés’ ears, and he’s blessed to see martín in front of him, shirtless, just in his shorts. “you’re going soft, andrés,” laughs martín. “you say that as if you haven’t,” andrés retorts easily, and it’s true, he thinks. he’s definitely gone soft. not in _that_ way, thank you very much, but the other way. 

he laughs much easily now, smiles easily, and he’s not afraid to tell martín he loves him. he’s not afraid to hold him and kiss him and spend whatever time he had left with him. but he’s leaving first, in the end. 

“maybe we should go bake again. and not burn the bread, hm?” 

“oh, martín. softer than me,” he smirks, letting martín hit him gently on the shoulder, getting up and dusting off some sand on his chest and legs. “and it’s your fault you burnt the bread,” andrés tells him, standing up to meet his height. martín wraps his arms around his waist, until they’re inches away. “it’s not my fault, not when you’re gardening shirtless. but who knew that andrés de fonollosa would one day, be gardening in italy, hm?” 

“yes, but who knew that martín berrote,” andrés smirks when he rolls his r’s hard in berrote, enjoying the way martín turned red, “would one day be baking bread in italy?” 

“you’re an idiot,” martín says, letting go and starting to stride towards their home. andrés catches up, taking his hand as they walk back. the feel of cool grass, instead of the hot sand relieves him. “what were you thinking of, hm, back there?” 

andrés thinks about it for a moment, his left hand starts to tremble but quickly he stops it, a remembrance of what was to come. he decides not to tell martín, because he knew how sad martín gets when they talk about it. “nothing, ingeniero,” he whispers in his ear, placing a kiss on his neck. it causes martín to pause for a moment, and it makes andrés laugh, after all this time, a kiss to the neck still freezes martín. 

“come on, we should bake focaccia bread. oh, and we need to buy milk, remind me, for tomorrow,” he muses, grabbing martín’s hand again to lead the way. and he knows, that he’d never trade anything for this.


End file.
